Poetry...

What is it?

Does it fly like the airplanes?

Does it float like the Spanish Armada?

Does it grow like the evergreen valleys?

Trickling through the hairs of many dust particles...

Collecting sand into their hands...

And crushing what is deceased.

Is poetry a sweet red velvet cake that lies in the center of the kitchen table?

A cherished delight for your bountiful needs?

Is poetry similar to the works of alchemy...

In creating what was impossible to create?

Is poetry like a gas chamber...

That injects the grim reapers cologne inside of your tubes?

Is poetry like the great universe?

Mysteries beyond the human mind...

Curtains to the blind...

But light is there for us to find...

Poetry is of the rainforest...

That bends the elements of water and wind...

Silent tranquilities...

Decisive melodies...

It can be fast,

And it can be cool...

Or it can be a shallow pool...

Welcoming the fumes from tears...

Despondency is deposited into the banks of rivers...

Shivers is all that hits the liver...

And chokes the remaining chunk of thy soul.

Poetry is...

For the broken...

Of the mislead...

By the fallen heroes...

To the bitter omens of the world.